Somewhere between myth and will lies a cure,
A way to break out of your mold
Shout to the skies that you're choosing to be
Instead of Fate's little action figure.
(don't call it a doll, Fate's just like any man with a G.I. Joe in his hand)

The myth is you are alive.
The will is your death.

Every creature on the planet,
At one time or another,
Wishes for its death
(or, like me, daily)

Why even live, right?
When as soon as you are born you start to die.
The slow march downward, and when you reach the dirt

that's it that's it that's it.


The cure.

The cure is that one moment in your life when you can smile for no reason at all and be happy.

I'm finding mine. Are you?
I like the title's relationship to the piece. It's accepting the fatalistic and nihilistic perspective of the piece's ironic optimism.

At least that's how I saw it

I just don't like the parenthetical statements. I've never really been a fan of them, and while I can see their purpose, and though you aren't abusing them, I just dislike them (a parenthetical statement punched me in the face when I was younger).